


Lucon paku Lucad [Speak a little Lucad]

by SarahBellCastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is foregin, College AU, Dean is American, Language Barrier, M/M, conlang, dean is gay, no gay freakout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahBellCastiel/pseuds/SarahBellCastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Halret has just moved from Arovalad, a city in Sardor, to the U.S. of A. to pursue a true American college experience. His new roommate, Dean, is perhaps overexcited that Castiel is a native speaker of Lucad, the language Dean is trying to learn. Language barrier antics ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: In Which it All Starts

**Author's Note:**

> Lucad is my conlang (more info can be found at https://sites.google.com/site/sardorology/home). It's from the conworld Sardor (also co-created by yours truly)- Arovalad is the capitol city of Rodor, a kingdom in Sardor. Sorry, confusing. Anyway, notes on the language and translations are at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end.

“Hey, I’m Dean Winchester,” Dean said, holding his hand out to his new roommate. Who was pretty hot, by the way. Blue eyes and raven hair, and an intense stare.

“Castiel Halret,” Castiel balanced the box of books on his hip and shook Dean’s hand firmly. “I think we will room-share?”

“Uh, yeah. Roommates,” Dean said, smiling.

“Roommates,” Castiel repeated, blushing. He had a beautiful accent, with open vowels and a flipped R, which only made him hotter in Dean’s eyes.

“Do you mind if I ask, where are you from?” Dean started unpacking, keeping his gaze on Castiel.

“I am from Arovalad,” Castiel responded, setting down his box.

Dean stopped setting up his desk. “Arovalad?” That was way too cool. “Like, capital-of-Rodor Arovalad?”

“Is there another Arovalad?” Castiel asked innocently.

“No, man, it’s just that... well, I’ve been thinking about studying Lucad, it seems pretty cool,” Dean admitted. Castiel’s face brightened at the mention of his native language.

“E mant da luc pasoth,” Dean said, smiling to himself. Drop a phrase and he would win Castiel’s favor, right?

“Pimim gra? Set ashdasnian. Felin, e afinadat paban deania lad luc Lucad, akipinar ralforia,” Castiel burst out.

“What? Um... sorry, I don’t really speak it yet,” Dean said, cringing inside. So much for impressing Castiel.

Castiel's face fell for a moment, then brightened again. “I can teach you,” he suggested.

Woah. Dean's [insanely hot Arovaladian] roommate teaching him a language? That was something he could get on board with. “Okay. I guess, that would be, um, great, yeah!” Get a grip, Dean. “Hey, d’you mind if I call you Cas? Just, Cas-ti-el is kind of a mouthful, y’know?” Dean flushed a deep red.

“Why would you call me Cas?” Castiel asked.

“Uh, it’s a nickname. Y’know, Cas... Castiel. Sam... Samuel. Easier to say,” Dean blushed. Why was he explaining nicknames to his roommate? And why couldn’t he control his own stupid mouth?

“Oh,” It was Cas’s turn to blush. He wasn’t accustomed to nicknames from near-strangers; in Arovalad, nicknames were reserved for the intimately close. But if he was to study here, he would have to assimilate. “Yes, you may call me Cas,” he said.

“Cool,” Dean smiled. Score.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Dean: “E mant da luc pasoth” = I can speak [Lucad] a little.
> 
> Cas: “Pimim gra? Set ashdasnian. Felin, e afinadat paban deania lad luc Lucad, akipinar ralforia.” = Really? That’s exciting. Here, I meet few people who speak Lucad, besides the professors.


	2. Part Two: In Which Dean Makes Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end.
> 
> I've realized that I'm kind of going from both their POVs, not sure if I'm going to continue that...

Castiel trudged up the stairs into Harvelle House. It had been a long day: three lectures, one painful tutoring session, a five-hour study session in the library, and a phone call home that involved far too many nosy relatives. It was nearing midnight, and all Castiel’s nerves were nearing the breaking point. He resisted the urge to throw his briefcase across the hall, leaning his head on the wall instead. Aros e bethon. He sighed, breathing in every smell and taste of the air around him-- an old calming technique from Rodor. Dia esoth set bocnel, afnon odser ra ro. He smelled the slate air of the stairwell, the sweat on his clothes, and... something sweet and warm and... homey.

“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight...” Dean warbled along to the radio, trying to drown out the electric mixer going full speed on his second batch of cookie dough. Two more seconds... there. He popped the bowl out of the mixer and turned to grab the chocolate chips on the table. 

There was Cas, standing in the door, staring at him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel didn’t respond.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean tried again.

“Hm? E, kia,” Cas mumbled, “I mean, yes, I am okay.”

“Right,” Dean said, not quite buying it. Cas looked like shit. His tie was askew, his eyes were drooping, and worry lines creased his forehead. “Well, why don’t you take a seat? I’m making cookies.”

Castiel hesitated. He really needed to get back to his room and start on his homework-

“Just sit, Cas, it won’t kill you to take a break for once,” Dean interrupted Cas’ thoughts.

“How did you know-”

“That you felt like you needed to go work? Trust me, I’ve got a little bro who’s a workaholic. I know the look,” Dean said.

Castiel nodded and plopped down on the couch in the adjoining common room. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back. University was taxing, especially when conducted in another language. He really should have gone to University in Arovalad. Or maybe in Doriyad- if he could persuade his parents that Doriyadean weren’t heathens; they just worshipped Sarevel in a different way.

But then again, things weren’t all bad here. Castiel’s classes were interesting, and his professors were kind, if distracted. And there was Dean. Who was currently sliding around the dorm’s small kitchen, singing and dumping chocolate chips into a batter of some sort. The oven beeped, and Dean went hurtling along the counter to grab the mitts and open the door. Castiel chuckled, watching him through half-closed eyes. He was so... human. So intensely alive. People in Arovalad tended to be straight-backed and haughty, worshipping in grand temples adorned with all the finery gold could buy. Castiel loved the majesty of it all, but coming here, he found they were missing out on the simpler joys of life. Like singing off-key and dancing badly and baking at midnight...

“Dean...” Castiel started.

“What’s up?” Dean replied, his back turned.

“Why are you baking in the middle of the night?” Castiel felt a bit silly for asking the question- maybe this was a common ritual here- but how else would he learn about American customs?

“Once you taste these cookies, you’ll know,” Dean winked at him. He walked over to Cas and took the seat next to him, placing a tray of cookies and milk on the coffee table at their knees.

“As your roommate, it is my job to introduce you to the finer points of American life, including," Dean held out a cookie, "chocolate chip cookies.”

“I don’t believe we have these in Rodor,” Cas acknowledged.

“I thought not. So here you go. Winchester family recipe,” Dean announced. “Cheers.”

“Malta,” Cas replied. He took a bite and almost moaned with pleasure. Gooey chocolate and crunchy cookie collided on his tongue, tasting of vanilla and cinnamon and....

“Almond extract. Lightens up the flavor,” Dean smiled at Cas. Mission Cookies: accomplished.

“Dean... set niavly. Set ihasoth dior niavly,” Cas moaned. His shoulders relaxed, sinking an inch at least, and he leaned back into the couch cushions.

Dean blushed a deep crimson. Cas enjoying the cookies was one thing, but Cas moaning in Lucad while he chewed with his eyes closed and head thrown back-- that was dangerous territory. Dean took a sip of his milk and looked away. Get it under control, man. He just likes the cookies. Cas sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He really does look terrible, Dean thought. 

“Hey, Cas? Can I ask you a question?” Dean ventured.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas answered, eyes closed.

“Are you really okay?”

Castiel hesitated. That simple question held a complicated answer.

“I mean, are you just tired cause it’s so late, or are you... like, struggling?” Dean continued.

“This is- complicated to answer. I am tired. Many things made me tired today,” Castiel said quietly. “I- today- ...it is difficult to explain, especially in English.”

“Well, d’you want to try it in Lucad?” Dean offered.

“You will not understand,” Castiel sighed.

“That’s okay,” Dean started, “I mean, I’m not an expert on this stuff, but Sammy says it’s good to just talk sometimes. Even if no one can understand you.”

Castiel thought for a minute. “Yes, I think I will try that.”

“Okay,” Dean said. He handed another cookie to Cas, who sat up and took it gratefully. He took a bite, then started to talk.

“Niala set nichen felin. Sed yisoth tor e vebirveled, i irada e cacieden, set nich...”

Castiel talked and talked, sometimes raising his voice in frustration, sometimes pausing to take a deep, racking breath. In these moments, Dean would hold out another cookie as comfort. Dean let Castiel's voice wash over him, the deep notes and long vowels, the consonants tapping through the space between them.

“...I e malo laycet olob sofi e vevonet tor t’e birvelet,” Castiel hesitated and seemed to address Dean personally, “e vonet tor e brader te tayet.”

Castiel finished, keeping his eyes on Dean. He was too tired to care if it was breaking any boundaries- he just felt so grateful for the weight that had lifted from his shoulders. They stayed like that for a minute, just looking at each other, legs almost touching.

“Kayaen,” Castiel whispered, “thank you.”

Dean smiled. “Any time, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Cas: “E, kia...” = Uh, yes...
> 
> Cas: “Malta” = Cheers
> 
> Cas: “Dean... set niavly. Set ihasoth dior niavly” = Dean... it’s perfect. It’s better than perfect.
> 
> Cas: ““Niala set nichen felin. Sed yisoth tor e vebirveled, i irada e cacieden, set nich...” = Life is difficult here. There is a lot I don’t understand, and although I try hard, it’s difficult...”
> 
> Cas: “...I e malo laycet olob sofi e vevonet tor t’e birvelet... e vonet tor e brader te tayet.” = And I am only saying this because I don’t think you understand me... I believe that I am starting to love you.
> 
> Cas: “Kayaen.” = Thank you very much.


	3. Part Three: In Which Dean Accidentally Courts His Roommate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end.

“Cas! Cas!” Dean hollered, running up the steps to their room.

Castiel dragged his eyes away from his online flashcards and pinched the bridge of his nose. He would never get used to the bright screen of his laptop. His first big English test was coming up, and he couldn't get it out of his head. He couldn’t get Dean out of his head, either, but that was another matter...“What is it, Dean?”

Dean stopped at the door, and addressed Castiel with all the pomp of a royal parade. “E set ashnian sofi set tie epi. E pedet te...” He peeked at one hand, missing Castiel’s deep blush... “niangar.”

With a flourish, Dean took a bunch of yellow flowers from behind his back and handed them to Cas, that cocky grin still on his dumb face.

Castiel stared. Had he just said he wanted... no. No, it was a mistake. Dean was his roommate, en Aros. It was just a harmless mistake. ...Which had to be rectified immediately. Oh, if Dean had said that to a stranger... Cas burst out laughing.

“What?” Dean asked, crestfallen, “I- I thought I got it right...” He spluttered. He had bought a new Lucad dictionary and everything.

“Peo, no...” Castiel wheezed.

“Well, fine. I just wanted to do something nice for you, cheer you up a little,” Dean muttered, ripping his coat off and throwing it onto his bed.

Cas wiped his eyes and set the flowers down, still smiling. “I meant, it’s great! Nian cano! It’s just-”

“Yeah, yeah, pardon me for trying,” Dean grumbled.

“I am serious, it was great. I just... ah... did not expect it,” Cas smiled.

“Well, you’ve been kinda mopey recently and I just...” Dean blushed. Damnit. “Y’know it really sucks having a grumpy roommate.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh,” Cas whispered. “I’m sorry.” That damn test. And this damn perfect guy in front of him. Makaros.

“No! No, I mean, you’re not always grumpy, y’know? Just... sometimes?” Dean babbled. Man, he was just making this worse and worse. All he had wanted to do was cheer his roommate up.

“I’m confused,” Castiel admitted.

“I was just teasing... It’s not a big deal...”

“As you seem to be at a... ‘loss for words’-” The air-quotes again. They were endearing, really. “-I will attempt to explain my confusion,” Castiel said.

“Um. Okay, great.”

“I am still adjusting to the cultural differences between Arovalad and here. For example, in Arovalad, gifts are not given without cause.”

“But you were grumpy, Cas. Isn’t that cause?” Dean objected.

“I suppose,” Castiel pondered, squinting at the slightly limp flowers on his desk. He debated on telling Dean about nicknames. Better not. “I still do not understand why you are giving me a gift when my behavior is not... satisfactory to you.”

Dean stared. He was just trying to cheer the guy up, for Chuck’s sake. “Dude, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not gonna yell at you or anything when you’re feeling grumpy about that test in the first place.”

Castiel looked up. “Yes, it’s the test, it’s not about you-”

“Of course it’s the test, I- Wait, what?”

Castiel blanched. “Nothing,” he spluttered. “The test.”

“Right,” Dean hesitated. Was Cas annoyed with him? Did he do something wrong? Okay, no. He would think about that later. “Well, I could help you study. If you want. I mean, I happen to be an expert in the English language, so...”

“That would be wonderful,” Cas replied, relieved.

“So, we good?” Dean asked after a moment. “Do you accept my gifts? The flowers and the study buddy?”

Cas smiled at him. Damnit, Dean could get lost in that smile. “Yes, Dean. We are good.”

“Cool.”

“Cool. What does that mean again?”

Dean grinned and ruffled Cas’ hair as he sat down beside him. Yeah, buying the expensive flowers and the dictionary for his clueless roommate was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Dean: “E set ashnian sofi set tie epi. E pedet te...niangar.” = I am happy that you are my friend. I want you good day.  
> **Note: What Dean meant to say was “[I hope you] have a good day,” which would translate to “Magoka niangar.” In his faulty translation, Dean essentially ended up with “I want you,” which could be used in a sexual or romantic sense. Castiel guessed this was not what Dean meant, which was why he laughed.
> 
> Cas' thoughts: en Aros = by Aros (similar to saying "for Chirst's sake")
> 
> Cas: “Peo” = No
> 
> Cas: “Nian cano” = Good work
> 
> Cas’ thoughts: Makaros = Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Dean: “E mant da luc pasoth” = I can speak [Lucad] a little.
> 
> Cas: “Pimim gra? Set ashdasnian. Felin, e afinadat paban deania lad luc Lucad, akipinar ralforia.” = Really? That’s exciting. Here, I meet few people who speak Lucad, besides the professors.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
